Do you remember?
by occasionallydeadowl
Summary: Established relationship, five years since Sherlock returned. It is a day special for both of them, but John is not sure Sherlock remembers it. Involves violin playing and Frank Sinatra, which gives a huge glimpse into the mood of the story. I would name it "calm fluff with a dash of shadows of the past." :


"Sherlock, do you remember what day is it?" John was a bit excited whole day, but as it changed from afternoon into evening as he got back from surgery, the mood obviously dropped. Sherlock was solving a case from home, driving Lestrade up the wall with the requests of photos he needed - suspects, doorbell, the bathroom door, the carpets from the other side. For some reason he refused to leave a flat, claiming he doesn't want to see people today.

"Yes, John. Wednesday. Why?" Of course, he knew. He was now typing away a quick report for Lestrade, looking at his phone clock intently.

John sighed. It was the day they met at 221B and John shoot the cabbie. But it was naive to think Sherlock remembers... It was their fifth year together, but nightmares of blood and body on the pavement still bothered John from time to time. Though he had enough of a pleasant side, John thought, really enough - Sherlock made an effort and it was endearing to watch.

"John, I need you for a moment!" Sherlock clicked one final time, nearly throwing the laptop away after the mail was sent, jumping from the couch and impatiently waving John to come closer.

"What is it? Do you need something? Did you solve it, the Blood Bath case "

Sherlock just rolled eyes up and moved his fingers over the screen of his iPhone, placing it on the coffee table, microphone towards center of the room.

John eyed him suspiciously, thinking that if it was an experiment he would hit Sherlock with a cushion. But... Wait, what?

It was a recording, violin playing something familiar.. Oh no, It couldn't be..

His thoughts were interrupted by Sherlock's presence, with feline grace snaking an arm around John's torso, almost purring into his ear, forcing the long cold fingers between John's.

"Yes, John... Strangers In the Night, one of your favourites. Had to ask Stamford to make sure. You thought I had forgotten, hadn't you?"

John let out a sigh of content, leaving a confident hand on Sherlock's hipbone. "Yes, you seemed very busy. It's you playing, I can hear that. When did you record it?"

"Yesterday, when I asked you to buy some honey."

They both laughed quietly and barely spoke for the whole song. It was slow, Sherlock used only gradual sliding from higher notes to the lowest and made the tune grow softer, filled with thrill and harmony, letting it to climb higher and be dramatic in the middle, letting it sink for a short period of time into a miserable tremble of uncertainty, lingering at the end of each phrase. That's when John clenched his fingers and nearly stepped on Sherlock's foot. It was made into their song, this part was portraying that year when...

"I knew you would understand. Wait, it gets better."

True, tune got warm and low again, somehow more solid and... mature?

They moved silently, fitting as two weird puzzle pieces, slightly chopped on edges, but fitting ideally, Sherlock's nose against John's grey haired temple, John's chin under Sherlock's collarbone. Memories awakened as tune proceeded, reminding of excitement, mysteries and pain, their fights and laughter, all shared.

The final note was subtle and long, lingering in silence of the room.

"It is ten years since Angello knocked on the door and handed you the forgotten cane. And I hope you remember calling me an idiot that night."

John hugged his too clever partner by the waist, looking at him as Sherlock continued "...and upstairs was Lestrade with a fake drugs bust."

They couldn't help it and started to giggle. John mockingly hit Sherlock on the back. "Stop it, it's the moment, the... the special... Oh God, you are insufferable smart-arse prick!"

Sherlock just laughed. He knew John too well - ex-army doctor never needed a dull romance without a special seasoning of madness. He had enough of the mentioned to provide.


End file.
